


you don't look the same as when i was dreaming

by ghoulisms



Category: The Get Down (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 13:19:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10617711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoulisms/pseuds/ghoulisms
Summary: “I adore you,” Thor tells him, chest tightening and expanding, all at once.





	

**Author's Note:**

> title from out in the way by beach fossils

Rumi was born from stardust.

Dizzee leaves traces of paint on his wrists as his hands outline the paper in bright colors, yellows and blues and greens, and Thor watches as he smears some across his forehead when he brings his hand up.

He’s so fucking _magical_ , and Thor feels every synonym for celestial rise up in the back of his throat, threaten to tip over and just spill.

He tightens his jaw and keeps it under lock and key, though. Instead he watches Dizzee trace a line in light blue.

“He was just something I went to, I guess,” Dizzee suddenly says, closing the sketchbook. He shifts down on the bed, turning on his side so he can face Thor completely. Thor feels his face heat up when Dizzee catches him staring. “He’s always been there, ever since I was little. There’s just some things you can’t tell your brothers, or your friends.”

Thor hums; he traces the outline of the moon on the other boy’s skin, watches as the pale silver washes out the purple that’s streaked across his thumb. It connects the bone all the way down to his wrist, and Thor feels the cracking paint underneath his fingernails.

“I get that,” he tells him, voice soft as a butterfly’s wing. He can feel Dizzee’s leg tentatively shifting so it’s pressed between Thor’s own. Thor smiles at him reassuringly and brings his hands to rest against the bone of Dizzee’s hip. “That’s how I felt—like no one would get it. I found solace in my art, and then I found out of a whole other _world_ , one where you can be as free as you want. That’s all I’ve ever dreamed of.”

Dizzee’s eyes are wide, all pupil, and the soft hum of the space heater fills both of their ears as they stare at each other. And it’s not like they haven’t sat like this before, haven’t dragged fingers down the length of the other’s torso, haven’t felt the give of a paint brush underneath soft skin as color bleeds across flesh. But everything has always been new with Dizzee. Every flicker of his gaze leaves Thor’s skin sparking and buzzing like an outlet.

“What you gave me,” Dizzee says, and his eyebrows furrow, and Thor knows he’s searching for the right words in that big brain of his. People never realized how to appreciate it, threw around words they always have when they don’t understand something.

Thor _knows_ Dizzee. He picked up something from his artwork the first time he saw it, continued to follow him along when they stood in front of each other, wide eyed and filled to the brim with wonder. It was something new and Thor has never felt like this, and although it’s scary and exciting all at once, he knows that Dizzee is worth new things. He wants to know every single detail that the boy has going on inside his head, ufos landing on soft terrains, cans of paint free on the streets. Free to love, free to express, everything Thor has ever dreamed of.

He wants it all. With Dizzee.

“You gave me a place to belong. No one’s ever done that before.” Dizzee shifts again, presses impossibly closer to Thor on the small bed. Thor curls in on himself, wanting to wrap his body around the boy in front of him. “I’ve only ever had Rumi, and when you came along there just wasn’t any hope to still keep him locked up.”

Thor doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t think he has to. He leans forward and brushes his lips across Dizzee’s forehead, the bridge of his nose, the slope of his cupid’s bow. He’s always been an enigma, wrapped up with soft skin and easily breakable bones but Thor thinks Dizzee is so much more than that—that they’re so much more. He thinks they could build galaxies, entire solar systems, all just with the way that Dizzee makes him feel.

He’s never had this before. He thinks he’ll never get used to it, the way that the smaller boy presses against his own body while the wind sings outside. He holds his hand until morning rises, always smelling of paint and sweat. It always leaves him feeling euphoric.

He wants, so badly. More than he’s wanted anything in his entire life.

“I adore you,” Thor tells him, chest tightening and expanding, all at once. Dizzee meets his eyes again.

Thor reaches down and captures his hand in his own, twirling the ring around Dizzee’s paint-stained fingers. The moonlight makes his shadow look blurry, and they’re just two bleary boys on a mattress, the sounds of the Bronx filtering in through the window. The winter air has always been unforgiving.

“The piece I’m working on—it reminds me of you,”

Thor blinks in the darkness. “Really?”

Dizzee shifts again, and Thor can practically _feel_ the restless energy, thrumming underneath his skin. “Yeah. It’s almost done, too. So you can see it soon.”

“Can’t wait,” Thor flashes a big, bright smile, and Dizzee meets his mouth with his own.

–

The piece has fancy buildings—scrawled all over the length of the wall, sparkling, big, bright.

Right in the middle, Rumi stands, top hat held in his hands, looking over at a figure that sits on the stairs of the biggest building that Dizzee drew. There’s a sunset in the back, flooding the streets with oranges and pinks.

“The opera,” Thor says, and he turns to face Dizzee, who’s smiling softly at him.

“We finally got there,” Dizzee tells him, and then he gestures to the sunset in the back. “Maybe there's other places we can be free, too.”

Thor grabs his hand in the darkness, reaches over and twines his fingers with his own.

“The two most excellent bombers in New York,”

Thor sees flashes of the future right there, in the middle of the room where they’re standing, and Dizzee’s smile opens up his chest and makes flowers grow.

He looks back up at the sunset and feels as if he’s got an entire universe inside him, thrumming underneath the skin of his wrist, and he knows Dizzee put them there.

**Author's Note:**

> just a reminder to get on social media and tag #renewthegetdown and @ netflix and sony pictures about it!! it really does help a lot and the more people we get the better bc we have to be heard and everything counts


End file.
